March
by portalshipping
Summary: He wanted to tell them, but they weren't there. (A sad drabble because I love Groucho too much)


Groucho hadn't seen them in six weeks.

He started counting after 2.

Groucho was moving. Moving away. Away from this town, the place he found home. Away from the mayor.

He raised the heavy bag that held the last of his belongings and left his house, taking one last glance at his once-cozy abode. Lately, it had only been suffocating. He searched his flowers for something he didn't understand. These were the flowers they planted together. He had always kept them healthy. Hopefully, the other villagers will do that job for him from now on. He said a silent goodbye.

He had come to this difficult decision a few days ago, but had been contemplating it for months. It was the choice between staying in this safe place, this place with the mayor, or leaving to search for a new adventure. The only thing really keeping him here was them. His first and only real friend. A confidant, a comrade. He had tried to convey how important they were to him through letters, sifting through the synonyms for hours on end. He never sent them. The letters he sent were cowardly. Devastatingly simple. Nothing like the complex feelings in his heart. The letter in his pocket was cowardly as well. He was never good at expressing himself through words. Thus, he had a hard time with people. But with them, they never backed down. They kept trying to break through his shell, and he'll never know why.

He wish he knew.

Their house was on the way to the post office. He took a different path. He wasn't ready to see it yet.

The post office doors opened in the same jittery way. They would probably never get replaced. He wouldn't know. He mindlessly mentioned to Pelly that he wanted to send something, and he handed her the letter.

The letter's last sentence being something like, "We'll always be best buds!" Groucho couldn't really recall the words he wrote, since he went through so many pages, ruined by tearstains. He had tried to get it done quickly. Cowardly words. Weak. Pelly looked at him like he was a kicked puppy as she told him it was ready to be sent. Did he really look that pitiful? She said a farewell, and he mumbled a goodbye.

The last thing to do was to go by their house. He didn't need to, he realised that. However, he had a feeling he would regret not looking at it one last time. That doesn't mean he didn't feel apprehensive about it.

The orange-roofed house was easily visible across the bridge. The peach trees around it had an overabundance of new fruits. No one had shaken them in a long time. At the very least, they would pick up the fallen fruits to keep the area in front of their house clear. It wasn't clear. In front of the picket fence, there were the flowers he had fought so hard to keep alive throughout the weeks. He watered them normally, but some still withered. As if they were mourning the absent mayor. They would probably die. He thought of the pink roses he sent them on Valentine's Day, 4 weeks ago. Pale pink. Meaning "Admiration". It was much more than that. _They_ were much more than that. Another cowardly move. He had a bitter taste in his mouth.

Groucho gazed at the nameplate. So sentimental. He never thought he would feel this way about another person. So enamored, so enraptured. So much love. It bubbled from his heart like a soup on a stove that shouldn't be on high, it made the air go cold and have his fur ruffle. It seeped through his veins slowly, making him numb, making his face numb.

He loved them. Fully and truly.

The tone of their voice when they were excited, their small half-yawns, their kindness, the way they squinted when they laughed hard, their tenacious knocks on his door, how they were always fascinated by his ears, how they would greet him when he woke up-

Everything about them made him want to cry. Cry in happiness. He got to meet them in his lifetime. He got to know what true love is, and what a true friend is. He had fun in this town. So much fun, he wondered if he would die young to make up for all of his good luck. And he might. The heavy bag made his shoulder ache.

He didn't want to cry anymore.

So he left, and got on the bus.


End file.
